


This Is The Ghost Of You

by storyofmine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M, Narry - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, ace!Zayn, and just moved to manchester, ghost - Freeform, harry zayn liam and louis are uni students, harry's flat is haunted, lilo, supernatural happenings, the others are gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyofmine/pseuds/storyofmine
Summary: Harry Styles just moved to Manchester with his three best friends to study at the University Of Manchester. He bought a small apartment for himself and tries to get comfortable with his new surroundings which actually works pretty well.Over the course of a few weeks weird things happen though. Things Harry knows he didn't do.When his older neighbour gets involved, everything seems to start making sense but new questions appear and Harry is sure he's lost his mind more than once.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [This Is The Ghost Of You](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/377457) by Schokokeks120 (me). 



> Thanks for reading my story. It means a lot <3

Harry Styles was 20 years old when he packed his belongings and moved to Manchester to study at the University Of Manchester.

It may not have been his biggest dream to move there but it wasn't far away from his hometown and he could study law. Studying law wasn't one of his biggest dreams either but his father expected big things of him and his grades were good enough.

So, after having lots of conversations with his father, while his mother sat next to them and played with her fingers, Harry decided to buy a small apartment near the city centre.

You may ask yourself why he'd buy an apartment - living in a city as big as Manchester can be quiet expensive and smart people would rather rent their home but the Styles family was wealthy. Harry could've chosen anything really.

Instead he decided to buy a small flat. After all he was living on his own. Plus, he didn't like to do chores, a smaller place was easier for him to handle. There was a small kitchen with a dining table, a medium sized living room, a bathroom - the shower was a bit too small for someone as big as Harry but he would manage - and two bedrooms. One of them was his own bedroom and the other one was almost as small as the bathroom but Harry wanted to put some of his belongings there, instead of having a guest room. It would serve as a study, if he had uni work to do, or just a place where he could play the guitar without getting on his neighbour's nerves. His computer was placed on a desk in a corner and next to it was a couch for possible guest to sleep on.

He was positive he wouldn't need a lot of furniture - he liked minimalism - and while his parents wanted to give him even more money, he declined thankfully. He was on his own now and as such he needed to show his parents that he was capable of taking care of himself. His parents might be strict and expected only the best but they loved him deeply and were concerned for his well-being. Besides, it didn't happen every day that your only child (Gemma doesn't exist in this story) moved out to live on their own.

Also, he wasn't completely alone. With him were his three best friends, who applied for the University Of Manchester and got in as well.

Louis Tomlinson, who he knew since kindergarten, studied sociology which he liked almost as much as the female stripper who got invited to his 18th birthday - Louis was gay and didn't have any interest in her... or any other females. He just wanted to go to university and chose the first thing he didn't dislike all the way.

Liam Payne studied literature and culture which he loved dearly. If he could he'd be walking with a book in front of his face at all times and Harry was sure Liam would rather be living in his favourite book than in old, rainy Manchester. His love for literature went as far as for him to use words and proverbs written in the books he reads which often ends in his friends not really knowing what he just said.

Harry met Liam in primary school. Just like Zayn Malik, the last of his three best friends.

Zayn Malik was the quietest one of the four. He preferred listening over talking and he once explained he likes to observe people rather than be observed which, in hindsight, was probably why he chose his course of studies: clinical and health psychology. Something he never really wanted to study but something that's just made for him and he knew that. He also loved to draw and his rented flat resembled an art gallery. It really was beautiful and Harry himself had some of Zayn's paintings on his walls.

Zayn, as mentioned before, lived in a rented flat almost ten minutes away from Harry's apartment if you were to walk. Louis and Liam lived together. Their rented flat was a bit bigger than Harry's and if you took the bus - that came every five minutes - it wouldn't take longer than fifteen minutes to arrive in front of their blue-painted door. On their doorbell there was a long sticker with their names on it: 'Tomlinson' and underneath it 'Payne'. But they were wearing rings on their fingers that promised there would only be one name at some point in the future. They weren't sure when the wedding would be but Louis always said: "It isn't happening any time soon but when it happens it's gonna be the best wedding the world has ever seen."

Zayn lived on his own as well and he didn't want to change it ever. His friends didn't understand for a long time but Zayn didn't have an interest in anyone regarding romantic relationships. His friends on the other side, were the most important things in his life and he would take a bullet for them without a second's thought about it.

Aromantic asexuell. He said the words once and never since but that was okay. His friends didn't ask any questions, informed themselves and were very proud of their best friends for opening up to them.

They wanted to meet up in one of the several cafés in the centre but until then Harry had some time left to unpack his belongings. Most things found a place in his flat already but there were a few cartons in the middle of his living room that needed to be unpacked as well. It would probably take a few weeks, if not months, for Harry to feel at home.

Standing in the centre of the living room, Harry slowly turned around to inspect everything. He liked his place the way he decided to furnish it but there was something missing and he realised soon enough that it wasn't a thing but a sound - music. He didn't like silence. It wasn't like he was afraid or easily scared if he heard sounds that weren't meant to be there. No, he needed music because he had his grandfather's blood rushing through his veins and his grandfather used to sell out concert halls and amaze the audience with his melodic piano playing.

Music was Harry's life. When he was young, he already had a guitar on his lap all the time and he wrote songs himself which he used to sing in harmony to the accords he played simultaneously. His parents were ecstatic and encouraged him to improve his skills. He had lessons for different kinds of instruments - piano, violin, cello, clarinet - but his guitar seemed to be the only instrument to make him really happy. At some point he was convinced to bet too good for the lessons and called them off himself. Instead, he wrote songs and his texts fascinated not only his parents but his friends and they were immensely proud of him.

If musician were a save job, he would've loved to be one or maybe even songwriter but his father's grim eyes saw Harry in a courtroom and who was Harry to deny his father anything? Which leaves him here, in Manchester, to study law and making music became a sole hobby. Sometimes, his friends would come around and the four of them would sing together. They were sure they could've become a famous band and Louis didn't give up that dream. He still tries to convince them to do it with stories of what all they could do as rich singers.

Anyway. The flat was too quiet so Harry decided to turn on his favourite vinyl.

His record player stood on the white shelf for an hour already and some of his vinyls were placed underneath it but while scanning the backs of the covers, Harry realised his favourite vinyl was missing. Hm.

He furrowed his brow, stood straight and walked over to the unpacked cartons in case he forgot to take it out of it.

Object after object got taken out and were left forgotten on the ground next to Harry's knees who hoped he would find the familiar cover soon enough, so he could flee this depressing silence. After a few minutes, he finally found what he was looking for. His special edition of one of Elvis Presley's vinyls. All his favourite songs were recorded on it. If anything ever happened to this vinyl Harry would... what? He couldn't even kill a fly, what would he do if this record broke? Harry almost laughed.

"You live on your own for two days and you're already losing your mind. Good start, Styles." He mumbled while getting on his feet again. He grimaced when his knees clicked into place and started rubbing his left one with his left hand. "Not getting younger either."

As soon as he got back to the record player, he got the vinyl out of its cover and put it in. He placed the needle on the vinyl as carefully as mothers held their newborn child. but that's just the way Harry was. If he loved something or somebody, he'd protect it with all he's got.

A few seconds later, the first song started playing and Harry closed his eyes automatically while quietly humming the melody. This was much better than the silence that seemed to resemble a black hole that wanted to suck everything around it in. Might sound a bit over the top but Harry was the king of exaggeration. Sometimes.

He continued unpacking and placing things everywhere with a newfound motivation. Not once, did he take a look at the clock. He'd rather stay at home all day and do nothing than listening to music and a bit of unpacking. University would start next week - he didn't have to think about it yet - and he talked to his parents just the other day, which meant they would leave him alone for a few days.

Some poeple would probably look at him in a strange way if they could see him right now. They would wish for motivation the way Harry radiated it with the way he moved aeound the flat but Harry just really liked furnishing rooms. His eyes sparkled while looking around the room and contemplating about where he should place the white lamp or how the armchair needed to be for the sun to shine on it in the right angle. Plus, the music in the background helped a lot.

He had so much fun that he forgot to look at the clock. Forgot, not ignored. When he did though, he realised he would meet his friends in twenty minutes which got him panicking. He let the object fall from his hands in shock but, luckily, it was just a cushion.

Twenty minutes to change into different clothes, shrug on his winter jacket (autumn began to wake up and it was around 5°C outside) leave his flat, get the next bus and drive to the city centre for eight minutes where he could get off the bus right in front of the café luckily. He could make it in time, he thought and smiled.

While looking through his clothes in his wardrobe and deciding on what to wear, he couldn't change the way he wished his friends would just come visit him at his flat. He didn't need to hurry as much, he could stay in his comfortable clothes and he would still be able to see his best friends who he missed dearly, even though the last time they saw each other was less then twenty hours ago. They were nice enough to help carry a few last cartons up to his apartment and he thanked them with some beer.

After shrugging on some more decent clothes, he hurried into the bathroom where he put his long hair into a messy bun. Right after, he went over to the coat hanger where he got his winter jacket and then he left the flat.

Halfway down the first flight of stairs, he realised he left the record player on. "Damnit." he cursed and turned around again to walk back to his door.

He got his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the front door and went over to the shelf in the living room.

Standing in front of it, he saw the record player has been shut off. There was no music coming from the speakers and the needle was shoved to the side again. Harry furrowed his brow. Even the plastic protection - the one to protect the player from dust - was shut and that was something it couldn't do on its own.

"Did I shut it off?" Harry asked and tried to remember when he stopped the music and closed the plastic lid. He couldn't find the memory.

He didn't have any time to think about it though, so he just shrugged his shoulders and gumbled something about how he came back for nothing. He'd have to wait for the next bus now and if you knew how lucky he was, you'd know that bus would probably be late.

He hastily walked over to the front door, opened it and closed it behind himself. After that, he started to make his way over to the bus stop and the café- He would definitely be late now.


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading the prologue and leaving kudos/comments/bookmarks. It really means a lot to me <3

Today was Saturday. Meaning, today and tomorrow were the last days for Harry to get everything ready for university. He wasn't too nervous though because he had everything placed on his desk and the only thing he needed to do was pack it into his bag.

He also began to get a bit anxious which was very weird for him. Usually, he was the most calm one of his friend group and it went as far as for him to jump straight in the spotlight if there was the opportunity to show off his talents.

His friends' reaction to the start of university couldn't be any more different. Louis didn't seem to care at all and jumped through the room just like every other day while Liam read every book about the medievil times he could find because he was pretty sure it'd be one of the first topics of his maine course. He didn't know for sure though which made him even more nervous.

Zayn was as quiet as usual but you could tell just how nervous he was by looking at his art. Instead of drawing a bunch of beautiful sunflowers on a meadow where they would bathe in sunshine, he drew roses with long and sharp thorns. Those thorns gored the petals of the rose next to it in the vitreous vase - ending in a table being completely covered in red.

Harry didn't know what that meant. He knew enough about art to know that the paintings didn't radiate happiness though.

Since his record player shut off on its own and the needle and the plastic lid seemed to have moved on their own - which was still a mystery to him - there were a few other weird things happening around him.

The first time he wanted to use his new washing mashine to wash his clothes, the mashine didn't work at all. Harry clicked every key and tried all the different settings - because maybe it way just the washing programme that didn't work? - but not one of the options changed something.

He was about to give up when he realised the yellow light, which would blink if the mashine was ready to start, wouldn't even light up. Because of that he decided to take a look at the back of the mashine to check if everything was alright with the cable and the plug.

And wouldn't you know: The plug wasn't plugged in. No wonder it didn't work. No power - no clean clothes.

"Weird" Harry thought. "I could swear I plugged it in when I first set it up."

Making short progress, he plugged the plug back in and the washing mashine beeped. Harry nodded happily.

The smile fell off his face as soon as he came back from behind the washing mashine and saw the door of the mashine open. He was sure he closed it. Was it broken now as well? He groaned but before he could close it again he saw something inside of the wasching mashine that made him stop in his tracks and open his mouth in shock.

He saw his red boxer shorts in the washing drum. He reached inside of the mashine, grabbed the clothing and got it out of the mashine that was filled with his white shirts. Good thing he saw it before turning it on.

"I'm glad it didn't work" Harry thought and couldn't fight the urge to turn around and look around the room to check if someone was there who saw the red boxer shorts before he saw it. But that was almost impossible seeing as Harry lived alone.

The next time something weird happened, Harry knew there was something very wrong going on.

He had some pasta the night before and put the leftovers in the fridge to eat for lunch. The next day came soon enough but before he could eat it, he needed to go grocery shopping. Living on your own was great but always having to pay attention to your food supplies was very annoying.

While standing in queue at the check-out, his stomach began rambling and he looked forward to eating his lunch. He liked to think that he was a great cook and cooking or baking was fun.

He got home half an hour later and smiled while smelling the delicious smell of the pasta. A languorous sigh escaped his mouth.

He stripped out of his jacket when he realised that his flat shouldn't smell of warmed up pasta if he hadn't warmed it up. The jacket hang off his right shoulder but he ignored it. Instead, he ran into the kitchen where his confused eyes landed on the microwave. The door of the microwave was open - like his washing mashine used to that one time - and the pasta's steam spread through his kitchen.

"Okay, something is really wrong" Harry murmured quietly and walked over to the microwave to test if the pasta really was warm or if maybe the microwave had some kind of technical error which would explain the 'smoke'.

Okay, the microwave - which needed to be set up by hand - did warm up the pasta.

Harry became queasy. It was already said that Harry wasn't someone who got scared easily but if there was someone in his flat who turned on his microwave- Maybe that someone was still there.

Without thinking about it, he grabbed the nearest object as a weapon which turned out to be a whisk. He didn't seem to care that it wasn't a very good weapon. He probably didn't even realise that it was rather useless.

He slowly went over to the door that connected to his hallway but didn't walk through. Instead, he bend forward to peer through the crack of the opened door. The hallway was empty and everything was quiet which calmed Harry down immensely.

He deemed it save to enter the longish hallway and creeped up to the closed living room door. Very slowly, he laid down his hand on the door handle and pushed it down, hoping it wouldn't creak. His wish was granted. That didn't mean that he was save though.

'Why can't I just be happy that my food is warm and not be this nervous?" he thought. He knew- of course he knew - that it wasn't normal for his food to just warm up without someone doing so but he'd rather not think about the fact that somebody broke into his flat less than a week of him living here.

Like before, he moved slowly and carefully, trying to peak around the corner of the door it turned out to be a lot more difficult than the first time with the kitchen door. He realised soon enough that he needed to enter the room completely to be able to see if there was an unwelcome guest sitting on his couch and eating his sweets.

A second later, he jumped into the room with the whisk high above his head.

When he, in fact, saw someone in his living room, he almost had a heart attack. His eyes were the biggest they have ever been while staring at the center of the room where there was a young, blonde man who stared right back at him.

Harry couldn't react fast enough. There was no time for him say something or use his weapon before the man just- vanished.

Harry stood, whith the whisk ready to hit the next person, in his living room and couldn't look anywhere else than the place the boy just stood. He blinked. Did his brain just make it up? Maybe he's gone mad but that thought was a bit absurd.

"Hello?" he asked the air in the room and could've facepalmed himself right after. Even if nobody was in this room, there was still the possibility that somebody was in his flat.

Did he make up that boy because he was sure that someone was in his apartment and heated up his food or was it just a reflection? Well, probably not.

He wouldn't be able to calm down completely if he didn't look thorugh every room twice - spoilers: He didn't find anything. His flat was empty and quiet.

At some point, he gave up and just ate the pasta. It was weird - it really was - but in the end the pasta was warm and he could eat it without having to put it into the microwave to warm it up.

The thought that someone was in his flat or maybe still was was scary and he couldn't keep his eyes shut the following night. When he told his friends about the microwave and the strange boy in his living room, his friends came over right away and together they looked through everything. In the end, they didn't find anything but that was enough for Harry's heart to finally calm down again and for him to realise that - at least right now - there was nobody who was waiting for the right time to pierce a knife through his heart.


	3. Chapter 2

Today was Harry's first day at university and he was... excited.

He was a bit nervous of course but it was mostly because of the topics they'd have to go through. Now, Harry was a great learner and studying wasn't a problem but whenever a teacher wrote down the new topic and Harry didn't know anything about it- that's what's making it scary. He was scared of not being able to show his potential and thus disappointing his parents. That's how he grew up. The words he lived by have always been: Make your parents happy, then they'll make you happy.

Sounded like a sad childhood but it really wasn't. Harry loved studying and getting rewards for his work. It made him a bit of an arrogant child but his friends became used to it soon enough.

He set an alarm the night before, so he wouldn't oversleep. Seeing as his first lecture was around 9:30am, he set his alarm for 7am. This way, he'd have enough time to wake up properly, have a nice shower and a great breakfast. He'd be able to style his hair into a man bun and then there should be enough time to find the right bus which should take him to the university. He had memorised the bussystem for the most part by now but he could always take the wrong bus by mistake and he still had to find his way around the university.

One thing he didn't expect was to fall asleep again after his alarm went off the next morning. To be fair, he just wanted to stay in bed for one more minute.

The next time he woke up because his blanket was pulled off of him. Well, it probablay fell off but Harry could swear it felt like someone has grapped it and yanked it off. That couldn't have happened though. Remember? He lived all alone and if somebody were to stand in his bedroom he'd get the third heart attack in like a week.

Anyway. He woke up because the cold air hugged his bare legs and chest instead of his fluffy blanket.

Harry closed his eyes, wrinkled his nose and yawned while stretching out his sleepy limbs. The snapping of his bones wasn't something he was willing to acknowledge. He was way to young to be concerned about getting old.

"I definitely won't miss sleeping in" Harry thought while turning around on his side. This way it'd be easier to turn off the alarm that didn't ring.

Wait-

Harry shot up into a sitting position. He turned his head to the right bedside table where his alarm clock stood. Within a second, his eyes found the red numbers but, to his horror, they didn't show 7 am but 8:42 am.

His heart hammered against his ribcage. He was more than an hour and a half late. How did that happen? He's never overslept before and the first time just had to be the first day of uni? Well, if that's not a great start to the semester.

Jumping out of bed, he made his way over to the bathroom. He was still mostly asleep which resulted in him almost kicking the bed frame but he somehow managed to avoid the wooden frame by a millimeter. After he reached the bathroom, he stood in front of the floor lengtht mirror. Clearly, there was no time for a shower left and he had to use his deodorant instead, spreading it all over his body.

His hair resembled a bird's nest, being all curly, dry and all over the place. Seeing it the way it was right now, made him scared of combing through it.

"The other students will be way to nervous to notice the way I look today" That's what he tried to tell himself while he reached for a hair tie and put his hair up to a man bun. It had to be enough for today. The clothes he wore just yesterday were thrown over the edge of the tub and he decided to put them on. While doing so, he had his toothbrush in his mouth and concentrated on not poking his throat.

As soon as he's finished with body hygiene, he put his watch around his left wrist and noticed the time. 8:49 am, not bad. He should have enough time to eat something small.

Before he went over to the kitchen, he entered the guest bedroom and threw his bag over his shoulder. Then he walked into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich which he stuffed in his mouth while putting on shoes and his jacket.

That didn't take him too long and after putting his mobile and wallet in his pocket, he left the flat.

"Look at me, having my life under control" he thought proudly. He didn't seem to notice that it wasn't like that at all.

The front door's key was placed on the round table, next to the door by the way - inside his flat.


	4. Chapter 3

Harry had no need to complain. Even though he overslept, he still had enough time to drive to uni and find his room. The next hours couldn't be better either.

Because it was the first day, the only thing they were talking about were rules and safety precautions and Harry was sure he wouldn't have any problems today.

After his last lecture, he met Liam, Louis and Zayn at a café not far from university to talk about today's happenings and their experience.

Seeing as they had different courses, they didn't have any lectures with each other which meant there was no possibility for them to talk. Lunch was the only time they saw each other for a short amount of time.

But that's why they were meeting up now and talking - partly excited, partly bugged - about their courses and their classmates.

Time flew by and it was suddenly half five in the evening. Each of them wanted to go to heir own respective flat and have dinner while sitting on the couch and watching TV. They said goodbye and Harry and Zayn walked in one direction while Louis and Liam walked in the other.

Since Harry and Zayn needed to head in the same way, they could take the same bus but Zayn had to get off earlier than Harry and walk for a few minutes.

Zayn left the bus and Harry sat on his own. His mind thinking about his lovely bed and how much he wanted to fall on top of it right now. Before doing so, he'd eat something though and he also wanted to watch the news and needed to send his parents a message about how his day went after all.

Right after Zayn left the bus, Harry took out his headphones, put them in his ears and played a random song on his phone which he listened to intently. It wasn't an English but a Swedish one and even though Harry's Swedish wasn't the best yet, he could understand a few words. While going to school, he had to take another foreign language (next to French) and he decided to learn Swedish which he hated - it showed in his grades - but he had found a surprisingly high motivation for learning Swedisch at the moment. Maybe it's just because he really wants to learn something in his own free time. Something that didn't have anything to do with university but grew out of his own interest. So, that's why he studied Swedish.

("Jag är Harry och jag är en man" he whispered while trying to memorise all the vocabs and grammar)

He was so invested in his music that he almost missed his stop but realised just early enough to press stop at the last moment. While leaving the bus, the bus driver looked at him surly. Harry smiled apologatically and whispered a small "thanks".

A few minutes later, he finally reached his flat. He nodded his head in the direction of the older lady who lives in the same building and held the door open for him. After climbing the stairs with his long legs, he stood in front of his front door.

He put a hand into on his pockets to look for his key but - it wasn't there.

Harry frownd and put his other hand in the other pocket which was empty also.

"Damnit, did I lose it?" he asked, feeling his heartbeat quickening and his breaths coming more irregular. "Where did I see it last? Did I have it on me when we had our lunch break?" He tried to remember but it just wouldn't come back to him. "Think, Harry. Think!"

Then he remembered: He didn't lock his door in the morning, just shut it behind himself. There was a door handle on the inside of his flat but not on the outside and he left his key in his flat...

He groaned. He locked himself out. "Not on the first day" he grumbled and meant the first day of uni. He didn't want it to happen on another day instead but with it happening today he felt like it was proof enough to show that he couldn't handle living on his own which was the main thing he wanted to proof.

Just standing and being grumpy wouldn't help him though. That's why he was looking for his phone to call a locksmith already. Before he could find it, there was a clicking noise in front of him. He looked up.

Maybe his mind was plaing tricks on him again but it sounded like the noise his door made whenever it got unlocked. That wasn't possible, was it? The key was inside his flat and Harry was right outside of it. The door shouldn't be able to just open on its own. It could only mean one thin...

There was someone in his flat at this exact moment and opened the door.

He stared at the door. His heart beat like crazy.

His door creaked open which made Harry feel sick and he took some steps backwards, not noticing how he got closer to the stairs.

He just wanted to run away but his legs didn't seem to move. It was almost like they were held down by a ghost's hand.

That was probably the thing that brought him out of his stare. Looking down slowly, he noticed his feet which where surrounded by some kind of flickering. With every second that went by he could make out two very blurry hands.

A shriek left his mouth. He shook the flickering off of him and stumbled backwards towards the stairs. Just before he could lose his balance, a voice warned him with a shy but definite "stop!".

Harry froze as soon as the word left their mouth and he looked up slowly to find out who talked. While doing so, he noticed just how close he was to the stairs and took some steps away from it.

His eyes widened when he saw who's voice it was. It was the blonde boy who he saw in his living room a few days (it felt like weeks) ago. The boy who vanished the day Harry was looking for the thiev who warmed up the pasta.

He wasn't scared of him, even though Harry didn't know who that boy was. The blue eyes were looking at him with a scared gleam and they were opened wide. Just like his mouth which he opened in the shape of an o to show wonder or amazement. Almost as if he were surprised. But Harry couldn't think of the cause of that surprise.

The boy was small and slim. Harry felt a sudden urge to wrap the boy in a blanket and giving him a hot chocolate but then he remembered how the boy still stood right behind the doorstep in HARRY'S flat.

"You" Harry hissed and marched towards his door and the boy. But said one widened his eyes even more and before Harry could scream at him - "Why did you break into my flat? What do you want?" - he vanished again.

Harry froze in front of his front door which was now open wide. The spot where the boy stood just a second ago was now empty.

He blinked and, after a few seconds went by, blinked again but the boy didn't reappear. He didn't stand behind him either which he made sure of by turning around because - maybe - the boy ducked and crawled through his legs - even though Harry didn't reach him yet.

He had no idea how to react.

"Very peculiar, isn't it?" a shivering voice asked him.

Harry turned around quickly. He was too scared to see something else vanishing and making him feel even more crazy. The voice belonged to a person who was standing at another door on his floor.

It was an old woman - maybe around 75 - with long, grey hair and a blue dress which covered her feet. She had grey eyes which were studying Harry right now and supported her weight on a walking stick which she held with her right hand.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked confused.

"The boy. It's a very peculiar boy, don't you think?" the woman asked again and smiled at Harry. It was just a smile. Harry couldn't really explain what it was but it didn't appear to be polite or rude, it wasn't encouraging nor intimidating. It was just a smile smiled by was lady who has asked him a question.

"Meaning I didn't make him up?" Harry wanted to know because it was the most concerning thought he had. If other people saw him as well, it would mean he wasn't completely crazy.

"I can't answer that. Maybe we're both just seeing the memories of a long forgotten time. Maybe he is here. Who can tell?" was the answer and Harry didn't feel any smarter. But before Harry could think of it any longer, the woman opened her door. "Do you want to hear a story?" she asked.

Goosebumps appeared on Harry's arms. Why would he enter the flat of the old woman? He didn't know her and everybody else would say no but the woman knew something about the boy and Harry wanted to know what was going on. He didn't give a nod but found himself taking a step towards the woman.

But the woman raised her hand and stoped him. "Don't forget your key, Harry" she reminded him and Harry had no idea why she knew his name. He went over to his flat anyway and looked on the other side of it where the key was stuck in the keyhole - "Hm, that's not where I left it this morning." - and retrieved it.

After doing so, he didn't hesitate to walk towards flat number 5 and the woman smiled after closing the door behind the two of them.


	5. Chapter 4

_Before you read:_

_1\. I don't know how much a nurse in the 20th century in Great Britain earned but they earn a good amount of money in this story and because it's my story, I can do whatever I want :)_

_2\. Spoiler but also Trigger Warning: There will be a major character death at the end of the chapter and talk about how it came to it (violence)._

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The flat was relatively modern which surprised Harry quiet a bit. He didn't want to have any prejudices but he expected to see green wallpapers with cringy motives on them and an old CRT TV with its antennas on top of it. He also thought he'd see wooden display cases with hundreds of tea cups with roses on them on display or plates with pictures of kittens on them on the wall.

Instead, the apartment was quite minimalistic which Harry liked a lot. The kitchen was white, just like the living room but there were a few black and yellow specks of colour. A TV wasn't even there but instead a long table with a million chairs around it. He didn't know who was supposed to take a seat at that table but he wasn't in the position to ask.

He couldn't see anything else of the flat because the woman has lead him right into the kitchen where he was now sitting at the table with a hot cup of tea and a plate filled to the brim with cookies in front of him. It felt like he was a kid again who was visiting his grandma and left grandma's house 3kg heavier than before. He didn't eat any cookies yet though and his tea was too hot to drink at that moment.

"I'm really sorry but I don't know your name" Harry's words cut through the spreading quiet. It wasn't unpleasent. Especially because Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about the topic hanging around the room.

The older woman chuckled and watched him with her grey eyes. "You can call me Rue, Harry. We're friends." She explained. Most people would think she was crazy but Harry felt calm and relaxed. He liked her.

"Okay Rue" he tried with a smile. It was a fitting name he thought.

Rue nodded approvingly and folded her hands on top of the table.

Harry wasn't sure how to begin talking about the blonde boy but before he could even start thinking about it, Rue had started to talk again.

"I'm 77 years old, Harry. Since I moved out of my parent's house, I lived in this building and it's been 58 years." Harry was already hanging off her lips, even though nothing exciting happened yet.

"My mum was very sick. I, to this day, don't know which illnesses were the ones to roam through her body but she was bedridden. Every little movement made her cry out and she slept the day away like the Dead lived their deaths - quiet and alone.

My father worked as a cobbler. Leaving early in the morning and arriving back home late at night. My dear mother's medication was expensive and had to be paid right at the beginning of every month, meaning my father worked until blisters were forming on his hands like mushrooms in the forest. Excuse my metaphor but it seems rather fitting.

At that time, I was just a child, 12 years old and still had to go to school. I wanted to spend every second of every day at my mother's bedside but, at the same time, I wanted to be the best student in school because my biggest dream was to get a well paid job. In that case, I'd be the one to buy the expensive medication, not my kind-hearted father. I remember thinking my father would die from working all the time and thus leaving me as an orphan. There was nothing more frightening to me.

In the end, not even the costly doctors could prevent the unavoidable and my lovely mother died when I was 15 years old. I've never seen my father as devastated and the months following my mother's death were the more exhausting ones of my life. My father was now a widower and I a half-orphan. The money we had left, we spent for the doctors who were supposed to safe my mother but they didn't and we also lost the last bit of wealth we had. Because of this, my father decided to work even more hours of the day and I spent every minute learning for my studies. There was nothing I wanted more than to graduate and have perfect grades at that.

When I turned 19, I finally graduated and got in conatct with the hospital in Manchester as soon as possible, enrolling as a nurse. It used to be a respected job and we got a good pay.

I ended up moving to Manchester, to this flat, and left my father behind in the house I grew up in. We never lost our close connection and our relationship might have become even closer then and I sent a letter filled with some money to him every month until the day he died.

After his death, I stayed in Manchester. I never had the urge to move back to my parent's house even though it was empty and waited for its lawful heiress. I sold it in the end.

And that's the story of how I ended up in Manchester" Rue concluded and her eyes lost the shine they got when Rue lost herself in the retelling of her past.

Even Harry had to shake his head shortly to come back to the present. 'Such a tragic story' he thought and really wanted to hug the older woman.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your childhood. If there was something I could've done to change it, I'm sure I would've" he told truefully which made Rue smile.

"Oh, but Harry. It's such a long time ago. Nobody could've even expected you then. Don't worry, I'm an old soul - nobody has to worry about me anymore."

Harry felt the redness rise to his cheeks and he looked away in embarassment. Then he frowned, looking back into the loving eyes of Rue. "I don't want to sound rude but what does this have to do with the blond boy?"

"Niall" Rue started and her eyes had a sad brightness in them. "Niall was a loving, polite boy."

Harry had no idea who this Niall was but he didn't want to interrupt Rue either. Her voice sounded kind of magical and he just wanted to listen to her and her stories. He felt like a child, getting a story read to them by one of his parents.

"The first time I met him was when his parents moved into the flat across the hall. It must be- Hm, let me think about it... 35 years ago. Yes. Little Niall was just 2 years old at that point. His parents were very young and not wealthy at all. Paying for the rent, getting to the point of financial stability while also caring for a child was exhausting and in their case impossible - which you will understand later on.

Thankfully old Rue was always there where she was needed the most" Rue told and smirked slightly. "Even though I wasn't very old then.

Since I've left my father all those years ago I was on my own. I was a stuborn woman who wanted to prove that I didn't need a man in my life who'd take care of me. That's why I lived on my own and didn't have any children either. That didn't mean children weren't the most precious thing to me though. No.

I used to look after a lot of friend's children and I'd like to say that they loved spending time with me. Maybe because my cookie jar was always filled to the brim and my cupboard was full of stuffies.

Well, Niall's parents were young and adventurous, meaning they wanted to travel around the world. You can imagine that it wasn't a good dream to fulfill, seeing as they had a child and barely any money. Their 'adventures' always ended up to be some kind of hike with a small tent and one bag for the two of them. I think I remember them having enough money to buy a one-way plane ticket sometimes. The only way to come back used to be for them working on some kind of farm where the farmer would pay them after the work was done."

Rue looked down at the table top. Her eyes were glazed over and Harry didn't see her blink in a few minutes now. He wasn't in a better position though. His tea was placed in front of him on the table but Rue had his full attention. His eyes were glued to Rue's lips which might sound a bit weird but the suspense was too intense for him to notice. He needed to hear more about the family that used to live in his flat.

"Every time they did it - leaving out of the blue that is - they left Niall on his own. No in their flat of course. No, they weren't that irresponsible." You could see the distaste in her eyes and it was easy to tell just how disgusted she was by the parent's behaviour.

"No, they brought little Niall to me, to aunt Rue. The first time he spent a few days at mine was shortly after he turned three. I don't want to lie - I was very surprised to hear that Niall's parents were home for his birthday. They didn't travel around before his birthday but they did leave the flat early in the morning and came back late often and I remember hearing Niall crying and screaming in the house because they left him alone.

It was terrible. And I couldn't do anything because I couldn't enter the house and there was this spark of hope left that his parents would realise their mistakes.

That's why I was very relieved to have visited them on his thrid birhtday to give him a small present and he liked me instantaneously. It convinced me of the fact that I needed to take care of him. At least on the days Niall's parents weren't home.

I had a lot of free time - next to my job as a nurse - which meant I didn't have any big problems with caring for him and if he came to me on the days I had to go to the hospital I just took him with me. There was at least one person who could look after him whenever I couldn't for a short time span.

To this day, I can remember the first time Niall's parents brought over to my flat. It was my free day which was good because Niall had the time to get used to the surroundings he'd spent the most time in. It was early in the morning when Maura and Bobby" - Harry guessed they were Niall's parent's names - "stood in front of my door and pushed Niall into my arms. Poor guy, couldn't keep his eyes open tired as he was. I put him down on my couch where he continued sleeping and his parents told me they'd be back in the evening or at night."

Rue laughed without humour. "Such a vague time. After getting to know Maura and Bobby more and more, the words became the most familiar to me. I don't remember the time they really did come back that day but it was dark outside and Nialler slept on my couch again.

It gave the two of us a lot of time to get to know each other though and I have to say that Niall was the most polite and nice three year old I've ever met. If you can say something like that to a young child, you already know what kind of person someone's going to be.

Maura and Bobby obviously saw the profit they could get from me looking after their son and it didn't take them long to stand in front of my door again. This time they had bags with them and told me they'd be away for a few days. They couldn't tell me the exact time they'd be back but they wanted to let me know when they were back..."

A sad expression appeared on Rue's face. "Niall never felt parental love. He was denied to since birth. You can't imagine the pain it caused me to see Niall having to grow up without his parents at his side, Harry." Rue finally looked him in the eyes again. There were tears swimming in her eyes but she managed to keep them from rolling down his cheeks.

Harry on the other side, didn't know what to say. He never thought he had a bad childhood because his parents bought him everything he wanted and he had the best of friends but he also knew that his parents expected a lot of him and put him under a lot of pressure but sitting here and hearing about Niall's childhood- it felt awful... Terrible. Wrong. He felt this weight on his chest that made him cry even though he didn't know this Niall. Yet, tears were quietly and calmly rolling down his cheeks.

"To have him at my side made me the happiest I have ever but I was also glad because Niall didn't have to be alone all this time. We had a very close relationship. I was his auntie Rue and he was my Nialler. Whenever he had some kind of problem, he came to me instead of his parents and if something made him sad he never hesitated to tell me what was wrong. It made me so incredibly proud. I was prouder than I was when I moved to Manchester to begin a new life.

I was at his side when he got into school and the first time he got a bad mark. When he lost his best friend he came to me and told me about how he wouldn't be able to see him ever again because he was moving to Australia. His name was Skye and Niall looked up to him like nobody else. Skye used to be his inspiration and his hero. I can't even tell you what it was that Niall loved so much about him but after Skye moved away, Niall didn't seem to want to get to know other people. Maybe because he feared for his new friend to move away as well or maybe he was too shy to start a conversation with somebody else. Well, at that point Niall would rather read books or draw things than speak to other children. It hurt to see him like that.

Not too long after-" Rue's voice broke off. Harry looked up at her in confusion and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw how Rue's body shook thanks to small sobs that left her mouth. They were quiet enough for Harry to take notice of them just now but it broke his heart to see this lovely, old woman sitting next to him and crying her eyes out. Crying because somebody she knew and loved was unhappy and had to go through hard times which she couldn't make better. He left his mouth shut anyway and waited patiently for Rue to continue talking.

"He came home, crying and sobbing - to me. Glady, I was home and asked him what was wrong. I think he was 11 or 12 years old at that time. Not a single word left his lips and I was so incredibly concerned. After I finally managed to calm him down - we sat on the couch for minutes, maybe even hours and I just let him cry in my arms - he looked at me with his blue eyes. The only thing he said was that some boys in school told him mean things about his drawings and threw the scrunched up sketches at his head.

They destroyed all of his drawings and Niall promised me he would never draw again. I tried everything to get him back to drawing but after that day, he never tried to draw something again.

It would also be the first day for Niall to feel what it was like to be bullied. It never stopped. My little Nialler..." She wandered off, seemingly lost in thoughts, before she shook her head and lookd back at Harry.

"That didn't mean he gave up the fight though. Even though he came back to me, crying like that first day, he'd go back to school every morning with his head held high.

He was 14 when he told me his biggest secret. I expected it all along but didn't want to push him into telling me before he was ready. Never. He had to find his own pace and I swore to give him as much time as he needed - whatever it was. On that day, I was at work but at that point Niall did have a key to my apartment, meaning he was able to prepare everything until I came home." Rue laughed.

"I was very surprised to see a joint on my dining table and he even bought roses and put them in a vase on the table. Niall stood next to it and looked at me with big eyes. You could easily read off the fear in them.

He asked me if I wanted to sit down to which I told him of course. Like the gentleman he was, he pulled the chairs from under the table and gestured me to sit down which I also did. After making sure I sat comfortably, he sat down himself and said to start eating and we ate. Well, I ate while he couldn't swallow one bit of the meat. At this point, I knew he wanted to tell me something, so I laid down my cutlery. I looked down at him, saying I wanted him to look me in the eyes.

Niall, I said, I love you like you were my own son and if you need to tell me something, do it. That's what I said. And then I waited because Niall couldn't form a word. Usually, he'd be the most talkative person imaginably but I've never seen him as quiet as he was then.

At some point he looked at me with wide eyes and whispered that he liked boys. He didn't say it just like that but I knew immediatly what he meant. I was quiet after that, probably scaring him a lot but what he didn't know was that I was so very proud of him for telling me. It may not have been too long but it was a different time then and people weren't as supportive of homosexuals than they are now - and there are enough ignorant people today. 25 or 30 years change a lot and Niall was so, so very scared. That evening, I spent hours hugging Niall and trying to make him understand that I was so proud of him loved him more than anything else in this goddamned world. Excuse my expression" Rue added quickly as if remembering that she's supposed to be a wise older woman.

"I was glad the other students didn't know about it though. Thinking about how much worse it would have made everything, makes me shudder. He managed to hide his sexuality from his parents and students for 3 years. When he was 17-" She wandered off again and closed her eyes, almost like she wanted to lock the thoughts away and forget them right now.

For a moment, she just stayed like that but then she opened her eyes and studied her wrinkled hands. They were laying, waved together like in prayer, on the table top right next to the cup of tea which was still filled to the brim. She wrapped her hands around the porcelaine anyways and stood up.

"Would you like some more tea, Harry?" she asked while walking over to the sink where she poured the cold tea. After that she turned around to face Harry, who watched her in confusion, and smiled sadly. Apparently, this was the part of the story that was the hardest to tell, even though the whole story was sad in itself.

Harry shook his head slowly. "Eh, no, thank you. I still got some" he explained and took the spoon in his hand to stir the cold tea. He was sure he wouldn't end up drinking it.

Rue nodded and put the old-fashioned kettle on top of the stove. A few minutes passes. Neither of them said anything until Rue sat down at the table again with a steaming hot cup of tea. After taking a sip, she put the cup down, sighed breathily and looked back at Harry.

"Niall got his first boyfriend when he was 17. Nobody knew of him but me. I was the only one who got to know him and, to this day, I'll never forget the sparkle in Niall's eyes when he walked through the door with Nick's hand in his. An attractive, young man I have to say. Respectful towards people who were older than him but towards Niall he was the most loving person. It was beautiful to see the two of them together. Young love" Rue told dreamily.

"They were dating for a few months and nobody suspected something... Until Niall made the mistake of inviting Nick to come to his flat. It wasn't his fault. There was no way for him or anybody else for that matter to know. Maura and Bobby have left the house for a few days - as usual. They were travelling more often than they were at home and they always left for at least two weeks. Because of this, Niall didn't see the risk in inviting Nick over seeing as his parents left two or three days ago.

That day, of all days it could have happened, I was at the hospital. To this day, I still blame myself a little bit. Could there have been a different outcome if I would've been home? Could I have done something to prevent it? I knew about Nick spending the night at Niall's, even promised to make dinner for them but-" Her voice cut off again and Harry realised by now that the woman he thought of as strong and self-confident at first was actually just a broken, old woman.

"But when I came home in the evening I heard screaming and crying in Niall's flat. The door was left open, which was good because I was able to run right in there.

It was pure chaos. You know your flat - it's small. Standing at the front door, you can overlook the whole flat which was why I immediately saw that everyone was in the bathroom. As fast as I could I ran over there but it was terrible. I'll never forget it.

I wish I could've done something - anything but it was like I was frozen in place. I've never been as terrified as I was right then and I couldn't even grasp what was happening. Maury and Bobby came back sooner than thought and must've found Niall and Nick together.

Later, Maura told me how Bobby got angrier than he's ever been. He had pulled Niall off his bed, where he lay with Nick, and pushed him up against the wall of his bedroom. Nick tried to get between them but they were teenager - children really and he just didn't have enough strength. All Bobby had to do was push Nick to the side and Nick fell to the ground, hitting his head on the bed frame which was probably why he was a bit out of it. Niall must've tried everything to get Bobby off of him but his father was so much stronger.

Maura couldn't do anything. She wanted to help Niall so badly but was too scared to get hurt herself. She told me a few days later that she will feel guilty till the day she dies.

Bobby punched Niall several times and screamed at him. He told him Niall was a freak and the biggest disappointment a father could have. I wasn't there when Bobby said these awful words and only know of the things Maura told me. Bobby commanded Niall to leave his house and to never come back. At that point Niall lay on the ground crying and curled up in a ball because of the pain. When he didn't move right away, Bobby kicked him another few times and repeated the demand.

Nick must've gotten up at some point and tried to help Niall to stand up but Bobby didn't want to let it happen. He grabbed Nick's arms and held them on his back. Maura explained it looked like this action put the life back in Niall because he jumped up and tried prying Bobby's hands off Nick's arms. My Nialler just wanted to help Nick.

Before anyone could have reacted, Bobby had grabbed Niall's hair and pulled him in the bathroom. He had closed the door behind him, meaning Maura and Nick couldn't enter. Together they tried to knock the door down but they were too weak. Screams were coming out of the bathroom and Niall's cries must have been unbearable.

Then they heard water running and knew it was the bathtub tap which caused them to panic understandably. Thank god Maura was smart enough to call the police by then. They'd rather not imagine what was happening in the bathroom right then.

Finally, Nick was able to knock the door down. Niall lay lifelessly in the bathtub. Bobby held his head under water."


	6. Chapter 5

Hours have passed and Rue's words still echoed through Harry's head.

His curtains were closed to keep his bedroom dark by shutting out the moonlight of this pre-winter night but there was still the red light of his alarm clock, coating this dangerous colour. Hours passed but Harry's eyelids seemed to stay untroubled by gravitation's force.

Instead, he lay in his bed, in his apartment which, by now, didn't seem as cozy as it did in the morning and stared at his ceiling.

He couldn't quite recall the time he bid farewell to Rue and went back to his flat but he'd sat there for longer if it meant he'd get to hear more about Niall and to get some answers to his questions. Rue was able to see the things Harry couldn't see though and those things were the dark rings underneath Harry's eyes or his shaking hands.

Plus, she knew how exhausting Harry's day has been. After all, today has been Harry's very first day at university and that alone had to be tiring enough for the young man, Rue thought - and her story couldn't've been a worse end to the day.

That's why she made the decision to end the night at that point and to continue their conversation on another day. A day when Harry wouldn't come home from uni as exhausted as he was now and wouldn't plan to spend the evening lounging on his couch after he should've called his parents to tell them about his day which ended in him meeting the thief again who then vanished - again - right in front of him and then hearing the tale of woe of said thief - or boy.

There was nothing Harry could do than to accept that their conversation has found its end - for now. After he thoroughly thanked her for everything - the tea, the cookies, the story - he went over to his own flat where he stood in the hallway for a long time.

For a few seconds, he didn't dare lift his eyes off the ground to take a look at his apartment. The rooms he had so carefully furnished and decorated, mirrored a long ago time full of tragic and sorrow. Harry wasn't sure if he could walk into his bedroom without hearing the screams of two desperate boys, a furious father and a scared mother or if he could take a bath without thinking about the awful things that happened right there.

Without breaking eye contact with the floor, without calling his parents - which he was supposed to do -, without turning a light on, Harry dragged his body to his bedroom where he fell on top of his bed without even taking off his socks.

The so anticipated sleep didn't come.

Every sound - as quiet as it may be - dragged him out of his trance and the wind that blew through the leaky places this house had to offer and moved the doors turned into hands that forcefully moved the creaky doors and people who whistled happy songs in his living room. The cars driving on the street next to his apartment's house and playing - despite the late hours of the night - loud music, turned into his alarm clock which woke him up every other minute because he had to go to uni. The clicking heater turned into bodyless feet that walked across his floor boards.

Deep inside of his head, Harry knew the things seemed this weird because it was four o'clock in the morning and he hasn't slept yet but the side of Harry that was sleep deprived saw Poltergeister and blonde boys who were stuck in time and space and drowned agonisingly in the most peaceful things right now.

Thousands of questions rushed through Harry's head - How could a father do something like that to his son? Why can I see Niall if he's dead? Why can Rue see him as well? Can everyone see him? Why did he warm up my pasta? Why did he help me with my door after I forgot my key in the morning? - and he felt like his head was about to explode. Thankfully, that didn't happen.

At some point - around 4:49 am, Harry thinks - he couldn't lay still any longer. Too much time has passed already in which he did nothing and lay in bed while staring at the ceiling. He threw the blanket off of his warm body and stood on his legs the next second. The sleepless night didn't leave him completely untouched though, so it took a few seconds before there were no black dots dancing in front of his eyes anymore and the jelly he stood on went back to being legs.

He didn't dare take a look into a mirror while slowly leaving his bedroom to, instead, walk to his hobby room where his computer was. His flat had two bedrooms - his own and this one which he turned into his hobby room. That meant one of of the rooms was the one Niall and his boyfriend - what was his name again? Nick? - were found together by Niall's father, Bobby. He wasn't sure if he was glad to not know which one it was.

Also, he couldn't stop feeling like Niall might appear any second. It happened two times already - who said it might not happen a third or a fourth time? Well, Harry wasn't scared of seeing him another time - the shock and fear in Niall's eyes told him there was no need for him to be afraid of the boy. He couldn't quiet explain the way he felt about Niall but it was almost like a calm gust of wind which grazed his thoughts and gave him a safe feeling. He was sure Niall wouldn't hurt him.

His computer beeped and signaled him it was ready to be used, so he turned back to the screen and laid his long, slank fingers on top of the computer mouse.

Without really thinking about it, he moved the mouse over to his internet browser and clicked on it two times in a row. It didn't take long before a new window opened and bright, shining letters popped up: Google.

Harry's eyes flew over the letters, analysing every single colour and finally stilled on the long rectangle underneath the word where the search word had to be written. His hands drifted above his keyboard, ready to write down letter after letter to, hopefully, get some answers but there was one problem...

He didn't know what to look up.

There was a high probability of him not finding anything if he typled down 'Niall Horan' and 'Parents kill son' wouldn't help much as well. He also knew that he wouldn't find anything if he stayed there without doing anything though, so he put his fingers on the keyboard.

Before typing more than two letters, the hairs at the back of his neck errected. Goosebumps appeared on his arms and a shiver, worse than he ever felt before, went down his back and made him jump.

His flat was silent. As silent and quite as it had been these last few hours but something about the atmosphere had changed suddenly. It wasn't a calm, peaceful silence anymore but - an upset, kind of scared one.

Harry didn't have enough time to register the shift in atmosphere completely before sensing another presence at the door. There was nothing else for him to do than to turn around and checking who or what it was that's in the room with him right now. If he guessed right, he knew exactly who it was and even though he felt nervous and a little bit scared, there was hope growing inside of him to get some answers for his questions.

He gulped. There, next to the closed door, stood a pale boy with blond hair and fragile figure - Niall. He had his head tipped forward, his blue, almost glassy eyes glued to the ground and his hands were intertwined while he played with his fingers.

Even though Harry expected him, his heart stopped for a second and he jumped off his chair in shock. In the end, he stood next to the desk, in a defensive stance and stared right at Niall who, thanks to Harry's sudden movements, winced and looked up to watch Harry through the thickness of his eye lashes. There was a scared shine to the blue eyes.

It was silent for a few seconds. Both boys looked at each other, trying to comprehend the situation, looking for the right words to say, coming up empty handed.

Finally, when Harry thought he was dreaming and this wasn't really happening, Niall began to speak.

"You won't find anything."

It took Harry a while to understand what Niall said. For a moment, he was too surprised to think properly. Niall's voice was... incomperable to any other voice Harry has ever heard. It was like wind which blew around Harry's nose in spring - fresh and soft -, like a melodic piano play - dreamy and convincing -, like sunshine - happy and warm. It was everything but at the same time nothing at all, like it wasn't even there. After Niall said those words, it was like he never opened his mouth to form words.

Harry wanted, needed to hear the voice again. To listen to the voice until his eyes would close and to dream of this melody, to make a dream out of this voice.

He finally registered the words' meaning and shook his head to get rid of the haze that coated his thoughts and threatened to pull him under.

"What do you mean?" he whispered. The now broken silence had felt uneasy before but now it felt like a treasure Harry needed to protect and talking out loud attracted thieves who wanted to steal his treasure.

Niall raised his head, his eyes glued on Harry. "On your search-thingy," he explained. "You won't find what you're looking for." He then watched Harry expectantly.

"How would you know? Why not?" Harry asked. His voice sounded like a wrecking ball, destroying the peace Niall built up with his calm voice.

"Because I don't want you to", came the response.

Harry felt every singly word crushing through his bones. It was the same feeling he felt yesterday when almost falling down the stairs and Niall called 'Stop!'. It felt like a weight, going through his limbs and letting him freeze right there on the spot.

"You don't want it?" he asked confused.

Niall turned his head towards the window where the sky slowly changed colours and announced a new day. He then nodded almost unnoticable.

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He frowned. Finally, he decided to say the most obvious thing. "Why don't you want it?"

Niall chuckled. "Rue already told you the most important things. I can't imagine what you expect to find other than the story she told you. What do you want to read? How the story continued? I think you can imagine."

Those words confused Harry even more. He didn't have the time to think about a response though because Niall vanished right there just to appear in front of Harry not even a second later.

"Just leave me be, Harry. My story found its end already and your questions won't help nobody", Niall murmured and added after a few seconds: "It's better like that. Trust me."

Harry couldn't ignore the way Niall's voice was full of sadness and desperation and there was an urge growig inside of him to make Niall happy. He'd get behind all of this, he promised himself silently. That and the secrets Niall harboured. Why was Niall still here if he died years ago?

The loudest thoughts out of all of them was: Why wasn't he scared of Niall? Why did he accept the fact Niall was here this easily? Why did he stay so calm? Maybe Niall himself had something to do with that.

"Niall...", Harry started but got interrupted by the blond... ghost almost immediately.

"Please, don't say anything, Harry", the boy begged and looked at him with wet eyes. "I'll touch your forehead now but don't be scared. I'd never hurt you and you won't feel a thing, okay?" Niall warned and poked, without waiting for Harry's answer, the taller boy's forehead.

Harry didn't have enough time to register what was happening, before black dots were dancing in front of his eyes, he felt his body falling and everything went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> I try my best but English is not my first language and I make mistakes ^^ Please keep that in mind while reading my stories. Thank you *gives you a hug*
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: xstoryofminex.tumblr.com


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